


A Few Good Dreams

by covertCalligrapher



Series: Cherry Wine [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Art, F/M, NSFW, Porn with Feelings, a lot of feelings dude, fic with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:33:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covertCalligrapher/pseuds/covertCalligrapher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the cusp of confessing how he feels to the Inquisitor, Cullen dreams of her more often than not now.</p><p>(Pre-relatinship Cullen, immediately post Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Few Good Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I drew a picture to go along with this but I don't want to break the flow of the fic, so [here's a link](http://jellopunch.tumblr.com/post/135486782243/i-was-kinda-bored-today-so-i-decided-to-finish-the).

The wind was blowing in cool through the slat he had left open in the carriage, something that felt good against his skin as he laid on the thin mattress. The sweats hadn’t started yet, but he didn’t doubt that his sheets would be stuck to him by morning. He could hear the bugs chittering outside, a piece of familiarity with Ferelden as they traveled back from the Winter Palace.

But even with the slight breeze and pleasant noise, it was pointless trying to sleep now, he felt caught in that limbo between unconsciousness and the fervent scenarios his mind cooked up just to torment him. Every night felt like this, though as of late it was worse, each dream of her getting even sharper and unbearably _good_ only to leave him aching in the morning with a slight throbbing in his temples.

And this was to be the worst yet, it seemed.

They had already started as he’d laid there, trying to ignore them and failing spectacularly. All of them were _her_ , her long hands as she held onto him tightly, how her lips would feel on his neck, how hard she would cry out as he rocked his hips into her. How _wonderful_ she would feel when he was inside of her, how wet she would be and how easy it would be for their bodies to slide together. How achingly hard just the thought of pressing his fingers inside of her made him, the way he would groan into her chest as she gasped, her body clenching tightly around him as she begged him to keep going, combed her fingers through his hair, told him she loved him--

Those fantasies just creeping around the edges of his eyes fled when a hard knock sounded on the door to his carriage. He groaned into his pillow for a moment before he pushed himself up, overheated skin prickling in the cool air from the open vent.

"Is someone there?" he called, voice rough. He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair and tugging.

There was only the sound of the wind for a moment, a light whistling that had increased in pitch slightly. Then, her voice came quietly through the thin wood. "Can I come in?"

"Clara?" he asked, suddenly six different shades of ashamed and embarrassed. He was frantic as he kicked the blanket away and reached for the door handle. The carriage door opened with a squeak and then he was faced with her, her skin flushed and pale in the stark moonlight.

"Can I?" she asked after they'd been silent for a few too many seconds. He had just been staring at her, affection and confusing shame burning under his skin as he remembered those fevered fantasies of her his mind always managed.

"Of course," he said immediately, backing away so she could climb in. He sat back on his mattress pad and pulled the sheets around his hips. "It's not as spacious as your carriage, though."

"It's perfect," she said quietly, settling down on the thin padding that covered the floor. They were close enough that their knees brushed, hers peeking out bare through her muslin robe.

He cleared his throat and looked away, acutely aware that her _entire_ outfit was made of muslin, what little she was wearing. The top of her body was cast in moonlight, the outline of her skin easily visible through the thin fabric. Her shoulders and the dark freckles there, the birthmark on her collarbone, her breasts and the slight way her slip dragged against her pink nipples whenever she breathed, he could see it _all._ Just the sight of her had his heart ready to burst out. Maybe it was just the way her skin washed out, unnaturally pale and flushed, but there wasn’t _restraint_ caught in the air between them. His heart was bruising itself against his ribs but it was a good kind of aching in his chest, pure emotion arching over into his limbs as he gently placed his hands on her knees. The skin there was warm.

His thumbs rubbed small circles into her, the motion making the spray of freckles there swirl. “Was there a problem with your bed?” he asked softly, the courage to look at her flushed face directly both surprising and welcome.

She chewed on her lip, hands held tightly in her lap as she looked to a spot on the floor. “I didn’t want to be alone,” she said softly, eyes trailing up his arms and lingering on the stretch of his bare shoulders before settling on his face. Impossibly, she turned even redder than normal.

“Cassandra is sharing a carriage with you, isn’t she?” he asked, throat four different kinds of dry. He cleared it and slid his hands a bit further up her legs, eyes flicking to her lips as her tongue darted out to soothe the way she’d bitten them earlier.

A few moments passed in tense silence before her fingers trailed lightly over the backs of his hands. He took a deep breath as she tangled their fingers together, eyes leaving her face in favor of the way her hands looked in his. _Maker,_  she could probably hear his heartbeat at this point.

Perhaps two things to say came to mind and his mouth opened halfway to just _spit it out_ already, but her lips brushed lightly over his so suddenly he jumped in a haze of nervousness and surprise. Even still, she leaned forward until they were touching again and he couldn’t _handle it_.

Her arms hooked tightly behind his neck, pulling her to kneel as she kissed him. He held her firmly against him, his legs tangled in the sheets as he fought for _more_ : of her mouth, of her hands, of the way it felt like he lost control just from being around her. His eyes squeezed shut just to hold onto the sensation of it for just a bit longer.

She broke off and pressed a few quick kisses to his lips before brushing her nose against his. His eyes opened and found hers shut. “I don’t want to be alone,” she said again, lips soft as the words grazed his mouth.

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, hands just a hair tighter on her body. “ _Stay.”_

The sound of her breathing in was all around, he could feel the small rush of air over his face. Then she was kissing him again and it was so _heavy,_  full of all those looks and the need to be touching. It was thick like a blanket, something that was ringing in his ears and all he could _hear_ were the gentle sounds she made as she kissed him. The slide of their mouths, the feeling her fingers made as they carded through his hair, the way her clothes felt just a twitch away from tearing off in his grip, he was going to just drop dead from it all.

She made a small noise when he broke away to breathe, but she just continued peppering his face with kisses. Her hands with her long fingers moved to the sides of his head, gently cupping his face as she brushed her lips over his scar. Her thumbs were rubbing lightly along his stubble, his eyes sliding shut at the affection in the gesture. Holding her tightly against him for a moment, he sighed softly before letting her go and lightly nudging her away.

She took it and leaned back, already pulling her robe off and leaving it puddled on the floor of the carriage next to his pad. It was such a thin thing he could hardly see it in the moonlight that bled in, painting the entire room in washed-out colors. Her hair was a bright red though, shining darkly as she moved to pull her shift away before he grabbed her and pulled her close for a moment.

The air felt like it was sticking to him and he could feel the places she’d touched him so acutely they almost stung. He brushed his lips over hers again just for a moment before he lifted the sheet for her to crawl in next to him. Her hands were surprisingly warm as she leaned and lied down, her gasp ghosting hot over his skin when she fitted her hips against him.

His eyes rolled shut, head falling into her neck as she held him close and rocked her hips. Her body was warm and soft, all he could think about as she rolled herself against his aching erection. He cursed under his breath, chest feeling ragged and hands clutching at her back, just trying to get her _closer_. The feeling of her body against his--Maker she wasn’t wearing any _smalls_ \--was going to kill him. Just her lips as they pressed gentle, open kisses against his neck should’ve been enough to ruin him. She was so _hot_ all along the span of him, the way she opened her legs to get him closer making it almost impossible to stop himself from biting her shoulder to hide how _badly_ he wanted her.

Her hand trailed down his chest, touch light, until she reached his smalls. Her mouth stopped trying to bruise his neck with a ragged moan as she cupped him through the thin fabric. She squeezed him gently and he groaned into her neck, mind fried and eyes pinched shut. “Oh, Maker, _Cullen.”_

Her voice was breathy and high, hand rubbing along the length of him. Her fingers trailed up him and nearly slid under his smalls and he almost choked on his moan when her warm fingers traced the head of him. It was better than he could have imagined, her voice wanting as she moaned his name again. He was rocking shamelessly into her hand, he’d wanted this for months, wanted _her_ , he couldn’t stop how painfully good she felt. It was in how her covered breasts scraped over his chest, how her hand slid around to his hips to push him more firmly into her, how her thigh felt as she hooked it around him. It was too much to just hold, the taste of her skin and the anticipation of being inside of her spilling out of his grasp.

The carriage shuddered and squeaked slightly as he pushed himself on top of her. His lips closed over her own, the kiss aggressive and he didn’t _care_. Her nails bit into his skin and he was sure it hurt but that was shoved to the back of his mind. He wanted to feel _all_ of her, her breasts, the curve of her hips, the soft skin on the inside of her thighs, the thought of them shook around inside his head like marbles.

He just took in the feeling of her under him for a moment, the gentle way her hips rolled as she quietly whimpered his name. The ache in his gut was a fire under his skin, an almost painful thing in his arms when he buried his face in her neck as he rocked into her. She was so _soft_ , body easily molding with his. Long legs wrapped around his hips held him tightly, kept her warm body achingly close. She made soft sounds, moaned his name, tugged at his hair and scratched her nails down his back. All it did was push him _harder_ , urge him on as he fought to get some kind of solid grasp of what he wanted. Just _her_ wasn’t good enough, not now that he had her pressed against him.

The base urge to just satisfy everything won out, the soft way she cried his name as he tugged on her slip so hard it tore throbbing in his veins. The thin fabric came apart easily, little regard for it even hitting him as she pressed his head into her neck. Her hand slid down between them again and grasped him under his smalls, her fingers warm as she squeezed him. He moaned wordlessly, his own hand covering hers as she massaged him.

Her lips brushed over the shell of his ear, breath hot as she whispered how badly she wanted him, how she couldn’t believe how hard he was, how  _wet_ she was for him. The thought of feeling her slick walls around his aching cock had him biting her shoulder to fight the burning in his gut.

She jumped underneath him, crying out from the sharpness of his teeth. He soothed the bite, murmuring that he was sorry. All she answered with was a quiet whimper as he kissed the juncture of her neck, her entire body trembling as he rocked against her. His mouth made a trail to her chest, each press of his lips feeling more possessive until he buried his face in her breasts, hands moving from her back to cup them. He marveled at the soft weight of them, brushing his thumbs over the centers and reveling in her sigh.

“Maker, you’re _perfect_ ,” he murmured into her skin, gently dragging his teeth over the peak of her breast before kissing it.

“You’re not too bad,” she said with a breathless laugh. He could feel it rumble under her skin, groaned at the way her breasts moved with the sound.

“ _Beautiful,”_ he said softly, pressing a quick kiss to the birthmark on her collarbone. He leaned back then, bracing his arms on either side of her as he watched her face. “You’re sure about this?”

She adjusted her legs slightly, squeezing him more tightly as she reached for his face. His eyes slid shut as she cupped his cheeks, her thumbs brushing over his stubble. Her lips grazed over his scar and he had to resist the urge to kiss her. “I _want_ you,” she murmured, the words soaking into his skin.

That was the word for it, after all. To hear her say that she wanted him tied his guts into knots, made him tick off what he wanted in his head. He wanted to bury his face between her legs, pull her apart with his mouth and feel her fingers in his hair as she screamed for him. He wanted to know what she tasted like, wanted to know what the shape of her legs would feel like around his head, wanted  _her_.

He pushed himself to lean on his side, mouth biting marks into her chest while his fingers trailed over her stomach. He lingered over the sharp juts of her hips for a moment before brushing against the curls between her legs. She was so slick already, his fingers slipping along her easily. One finger slid inside of her and curled, then another as he watched her face.

She was a _sight_ , flushed skin and body so tight that he ached just thinking of what she would feel like wrapped around him. Arousal was thick in the air of the carriage, his fingers working her harder as she started grinding herself against the palm of his hand, face shameless as she panted his name. A soft _please_ slipped out every few breaths and he almost snapped, almost flipped her over and took her as hard as she was begging him to, but he didn’t want this moment to end.

He curled his fingers inside of her, aching to hear her scream for him, half delirious with the anticipation of her. Her fingers scrabbled against the paneling behind her, grasping what she could as she arched against him. She was so painfully _beautiful_ under him, he made a soft groan when she clenched tightly around his fingers. He slowed down, watching her eyes squeeze shut and the shape her lips made as she panted, rocking herself into his hand. It was all such an experience, something overwhelming that he craved in his gut. The dark marks on her chest stood out and he moaned her name again, thumb rubbing lightly over her clit just to watch her body twist for him.

He leaned down and pressed his face into her chest again, breathing in as he curled his fingers. She nearly sobbed when he rubbed his stubble over her breasts, peaks rosy and heaving as she panted. He groaned, capturing one in his mouth and relishing in how tightly she clenched around his fingers, one of her hands fisting in his hair to hold him in place. The carriage was creaking again as she rocked against his hand, his hips matching hers as he ground himself into the thin mattress just to get some relief.

“ _Please,_ Cullen,” she gasped, hips frantic and hand tight in his hair. She was panting, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as she reached for the edge of his smalls. She looked radiant right then, a perfect picture with a heavy blush spread across her freckles.

He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against hers as she pushed his smalls down, the both of them gasping as she grasped his length. She swiped her thumb over the tip, fingers warm as she stroked him.

“ _Maker,_ Clara-- _Stop,”_ he ground out, grabbing her arm and leaning back. He felt liable to snap and he didn’t intend to embarrass himself with finishing just from a few light touches.

She whimpered softly but let him hook her knee over his arm, body bending easily as he leaned and braced himself against the mattress. The skin on the insides of her thighs was smooth and pale, dusted with fine orange freckles that he found far too endearing in the moment. Overwhelmed by it all, he pressed a kiss to her knee, right next to where her birthmark repeated like a stamp on her body.

She lifted her hips, chest heaving as she looked at him to get his attention. He stared back at her for a moment before positioning himself between her legs and taking a deep breath, let the solid heat of the moment wash over him. Her eyes were fluttering as she looked at him, one of her hands covering his while the other was on her breast. It was a solid stare, air electric and inexplicably thick, broken when she flicked her gaze down to where he was pressed against her. Then she bit her lip again before looking back at him and that _did it_.

He slipped inside of her easily, forcing his eyes to stay open and look at her. Her own eyes rolled shut, lips parting in a gasp again as she arched her body into him. She held onto him tightly, winding her arms hard around his neck as he pulled out and gave a small thrust back into her.

 _Maker,_ he didn’t think it was possible for her to feel so fantastic but he almost came just from hearing her cry out for him, _because_ of him. She was shuddering around him, hot and tight and so _slick_ , voice rough as she gasped each time his hips snapped into her. His name sounded wonderful in her mouth, lips wrapped around a gasp and each time she tried to say it, it broke off from the force of their bodies.

It was just the two of them, the barely-restrained sounds they managed for each other. The carriage was creaking in earnest now, the wood protesting as his slow thrusts turned harder, faster, deeper at her insistence. Every place she grabbed him, kissed him felt burned from her skin, their bodies one sharp curve as they wrapped themselves around each other.

Then she was pushing him off of her, the both of them groaning as he slipped out of her. Her hands raked through the hair on his chest, lips shushing him with a kiss as she rolled them both over. The moonlight filtering in cut over her face as she sat herself on top of him, her slit pressed along his length. She rocked her hips a few times, whimpering quietly as the head of his cock brushed against her clit.

The skin on her thighs was warm as he grabbed her tightly, holding her still because he wouldn’t last if she kept dragging herself against him. He was _achingly_ hard, skin too tight and his desire made him feel half-crazed for her. She looked down at him for a moment before her eyes slid shut, a hand bracing her on his chest while her other grabbed him and pressed him against her. He watched as she took him, her body warm and slick as he felt her stretching around him.

She came quickly when he pressed his thumb against her, rubbing tight circles around her swollen clit. It was a soft _Ahh!_ as she clenched tightly around him, walls fluttering and hips stuttering in their easy rhythm. His hands squeezed her, held her still as he rolled them both so she was under him, whining his name as he gave a few more hard thrusts--

 

* * *

 

Cullen woke up suddenly, eyes bleary and mind still reaching for the midnight it had managed to cook up. Someone was knocking on the door to his carriage, loud and pounding against the inside of his head.

He waited a few moments before sighing and dragging his hand down his face. “What is it?” he called, blinking in the pale sunlight that filtered in through the open window in the carriage.

“Wake-up call, Ser!” the agent called. Cullen didn’t move to open the door, electing to just lie there while his head throbbed.

The messenger shuffled outside the door for a minute before knocking softly again. “Ser? The Inquisitor requested to ride in your carriage today again as well.”

He jumped at her title, sitting up and groaning at the tightness in his shorts. “I’m awake, just give me a few minutes,” he said, groaning quietly as he rubbed his eyes. “Tell the Inquisitor she’s welcome to join me for the day.”

The agent left with a “Yes, Ser!” and Cullen sat there, massaging his temples as he readied himself for another day of quiet riding. It was just going to be soft talking with their fingers laced together, but he’d take it.

**Author's Note:**

> I was cleaning out my docs and found this almost completely finished so I figured I'd post it. It's been months anyway, so this was fun. I missed writing.
> 
> Also please leave a kudos or comment if you liked it <3 I live off of those things, man.
> 
> my tumblr: [jellopunch](http://jellopunch.tumblr.com/)


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